(I’m dining out with my wife and ten-year-old daughter. The waitress is handing out the silverware.)
Waitress: “Is it okay if I give your daughter a knife?”
Me: “That’s fine.”
Daughter: *after waitress leaves* “She didn’t think I could use a knife?”
Me: “I can’t imagine why.”
(We immediately began sword fighting until my wife made us stop.)
(According to my parents, I started talking at nine months old. This led them to be concerned about my younger brother, who was saying little more than, “Mama,” or, “Dada” at over a year. Testing showed there was nothing wrong with his hearing, and the pediatrician advised my parents that all children were different and to just be patient with him. We’re all relaxing at home on a weekend, and my brother and I have been quietly playing together. Suddenly my brother stands up and toddles over to my father.)
Brother: *loudly and plainly* “GIMME A BEER!”
Father: *dying laughing*
Mother: “Well… at least he’s talking!”
(After that, my brother continued to speak in complete sentences. We’re not sure what caused the initial delay; my best theory is that he was waiting until he had something important to say.)
(My family is traveling for the holidays, and we are staying in a hotel. One night there isn’t much on TV, so my two sons — 18 and 16 — get into a discussion about “Thomas the Tank Engine” for some reason. They both loved Thomas videos as young children, and they are inspired to look one up on YouTube. If you have ever watched “Thomas the Tank Engine,” especially the older ones from the late 90s and early 2000s, you know that the eyes on the engines move, but their mouths are not animated.)
Son #2: “Were all of these narrated?”
Me: “Um, yeah.”
Son #2: “Their mouths don’t move! Just the eyes!”
Me: “That was always the case, honey.”
Son #2: “No, that’s not right. Some of them had moving mouths, didn’t they?”
Son #1: “Dude, their mouths never moved. They were like a model railroad with a voiceover.”
Son #2: *frowning* “My childhood was a lie!”
(Even at sixteen, he’s still pretty cute sometimes.)
(It’s my first year living in a college residence. My mom is over, and I’m packing some stuff to take back home for the holidays. Among them is a mug, a replica of one that appears in a webcomic I am a big fan of. In the comic, the mug is seemingly indestructible.)
Mom: “You’re taking your mug?”
Me: “Of course! It’s the Captain’s Mug!”
Mom: “But you know you have a lot of mugs at home, right?”
Me: “IT’S THE CAPTAIN’S MUG.”
Mom: “Okay, I’m just worried that it’ll break on the–“
Me: “Captain’s Mug is indestructible! It can survive a black hole!”
Mom: “I’d like to wrap it in some–“
Me: “IT CAN SURVIVE A SINGULARITY!”
(Neither of my kids has ever liked cereal in a bowl with milk. They basically don’t like milk at all. However, they will often snack on cereal straight from the box while they watch TV or play video games. This tends to generate lots of crumbs, which drives me nuts.)
Me: “Can you please pick up the crumbs and stop eating like an animal? It’s a mess in here.”
Son: “They’re small! They drop! I mean, what am I supposed to do, eat them with a spoon?”
Me: “Um, technically, yeah…”
(At least he admitted I had a point after that one.)
